Being There For Marshall
by b-mystique
Summary: Marshall has proven time and time again that he will always b there for Mary, but now it's Mary's turn to be there for him. M/M Fluff


_**A/N:** Umm, where to begin. I'm relatively new to the whole creative writing thing, especially sharing it in this manner. This will be my first time writing for In Plain Sight. I must say, I wrote this about a week or so ago and spent the rest of the time debating whether or not to post it. I've been reading some of the work around here and I can honestly say the writing here is nothing short of amazing, hence the debate, you guys are intimidating! LOL! My only hope is that someone will find it at least somewhat enjoyable and that I did the characters some justice, however miniscule that justice may be. I'll stop my nervous ramblings now. : ) oh and I would appreciate the reviews, they may help : )_

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own the characters and I don't own the show. It would be a disaster if I did, the foreplay would have lasted all of five minutes and it would have ended with M/M living happily ever after._

_~~~~~~o~~~~~~_

Mary rode around in her new car unsure of where she wanted to go next. It had been a day from hell; so far she was going for a record year from hell, with everything from getting shot to losing witnesses. The past few months had been particularly difficult given her broken engagement with a man whom she loved, sort of. Brandi taking off and coming back with one of her father's illegitimate love children didn't help matters either. She smirked at the very thought of that. Her life was the bastard kid of a crappy soap opera and one of those dreadful reality TV shows.

Just today she had to deal with Marshall's inexplicable male version of PMS. He barely looked at her the entire day and he ignored her rants and raves about her family much to her chagrin. He refused to engage in any of their usual banter and he was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally she couldn't shut the man up for anything in the world, normally he would go on for endless periods of time about the history of the golf ball or whatever nonsensical spout of information he felt the need to bore her with. He had left the office without even a courtesy nod in her direction which thoroughly pissed her off. She didn't bother to inquire as to what caused this sudden mood change in her partner, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know, she just hoped he got his act together so she wouldn't have to endure another car ride with pregnant pauses and insufferable silence.

She assumed that when she got home things would be a little calmer. Brandi had taken off a couple of weeks prior, following the man-child that Brandi had so affectionately called their brother. That alone had irritated Mary beyond belief. She had just grown accustom to the little bit of news and the kid's out of the blue appearance when Brandi told her the plan. She had decided to move down to Miami with the kid and work for him full time. Squish was proud of herself for actually making the first grown up decision in her life and taking matters into her own hands. Mary had wanted to be proud of her sister too, after all it would mean that Mary wouldn't have to take care of the scatterbrained young woman anymore, but Mary couldn't help but feel jealous. Her sister had made this connection with their sibling, an incomprehensible connection that Mary was envious of. Brandi's relationship with the man was easy and effortless, they revealed every tid bit of information they had with one another, things that Brandi hadn't even bothered to tell Mary. Mary had practically raised Brandi, infancy onward and despite their rocky relationship she always thought that Brandi would be somewhat forthcoming with personal info, she had no idea that she was the last person Brandi would confide in. Mary had suppressed her feelings as much as she could and cut the proverbial tie that bound Brandi to her, letting her sister go, because at the time she knew she had Jinx to deal with.

She didn't anticipate Jinx leaving her too. Earlier that evening, upon arriving home from work she was faced with the barren room that had once belonged to her mother. Jinx had met her at the door carrying the last of her belongings in cardboard boxes. Mary knew Jinx was leaving but the news that came afterward surprised and infuriated her. Jinx was moving in with some elder gentleman, the grandfather of one of her ballet students.

It was a painful reminder of her childhood. Mary was seven when Jinx moved her first alcoholic boyfriend in the house, two week later she would kick the man out and move onto someone new. By the time Mary was thirteen, Jinx had resorted to packing her and Brandi up and moving them in with whichever stranger their mother found who whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Mary would have to fend for herself and Brandi while Jinx spent days on end in a drunken stupor. The relationship would last all of a week or two before Jinx would come to her senses and move them back into their tiny apartment promising to never do it again, only to repeat the pattern a month later. It was for that reason that Mary nearly fell apart upon learning that her mother would be moving in with a strange man. She had actually thought she and her mother had made progress, clearly they would never have the ideal relationship but they seemed to have been getting along and coexisting in peace, she even felt a touch of maternal instincts emanating from the hare brained woman when she ran to her mother's studio after breaking up with Raph. She thought that the woman had made progress, but her recent decision had trudged up memories that Mary had buried long ago and it was that last straw that caused her to flee her apartment.

She weaved through the traffic occasionally berating some unsuspecting driver and letting her mind wonder. To outsiders, her family was an emotional black hole, not stopping until Mary was fully sucked into its grasp. Her entire life had always revolved around cleaning up after her mother and her sister. As much as she despised it, and she truly despised it, it was also something she had come to rely on. Mary needed to feel needed and most of her identity and sense of purpose was directly tied to the two women. They screwed her life up on a regular basis, but they were there nonetheless and as much as it pained her to admit it, she needed them; she didn't know who she was without them. The fact that both women had taken off on her, left this empty hole in her heart and an even emptier void in her apartment. She was alone; for the first time she was completely alone, with no boyfriend to escape to and no relative to keep her busy. The wave of events that washed over her life lead her to one of her deepest fears, loneliness, and Mary didn't know how she would be able to deal with it. She despised the changes that lead her to that point. She despised change, period. She spent a lifetime searching for stability and always coming short, and though she was used to change, she was used to bobbing and weaving through life, taking a few hits and yet always persevering she avoided change like a plague. Her job was the only thing that kept her grounded. It was what kept her stable, that and her best friend, her partner, Marshall. He was the one person that was always a constant in her life, and he was exactly who she needed to see right now.

Mary pulled in front of Marshall's modest, single family home. In all the time she had known Marshall, she could count on one hand the times in which she had actually visited him there. Obviously they seen each other at work everyday but outside of that, Marshall had always come to her, to her place, usually to rescue her from her family or diffuse the latest outburst. He was good that way.

She took the stairs two at a time before pausing outside the door. She took a few breaths, wanting to recollect herself as best as she could. Marshall was outlandishly perceptive and she knew that once that door opened he would be painfully aware that something was bothering her. She always did her best to hide the fact that she was troubled, using sarcasm and wisecracks like a shield, and as usual he always seen through her façade. He would quip back with her and carefully suggest that they talk, never prying too much in fear of making her uncomfortable. He'd wait patiently until she exploded and then he'd respond to said explosion with fortune cookie advice that she ragged on him about, but secretly found helpful. She never shared with him the inner workings of her mind, how she self reflected and psychoanalyzed every aspect of her life, but she suspected he already knew. It was all in how he stared at her.

Mary went to work jimmying the lock and letting herself in. It was a handy skill that she had acquired as a child. Jinx was a forgetful drunk and after a few nights of being locked outside of their apartment during the cold New Jersey winter because Jinx had misplaced her keys, Mary had decided to hone in on the skill for her own self preservation. She threw the door open with an unnecessary force before slamming it closed behind her. It was a minor miracle that her actions hadn't ripped the door right off of its hinges. She bumped into a bookcase nearly knocking over the books stacked precariously on the edge.

"Jesus Doofus, how many books do you need?"

Marshall sprung to his feet in surprise, looking over the couch he had previously been sitting on and eyeing his partner. He was unusually not amused by her antics. "What the hell…Mar? How'd you get in here?"

Mary dangled the instruments she used to pick the lock and smirked at him smugly. Her smile faltered a hair when she met the dead eyes of her very frustrated partner. "Anyone tell you, you're apartment has a surprisingly feminine touch for a bachelor pad?" she chuckled at her own joke.

"I'm not in the mood Mar," he sighed quietly, sinking back down into the couch, his back facing Mary again. From a distance she could see his long fingers absentmindedly fiddling with a piece of paper on the coffee table.

"Okay numb nuts…" she began, trying to ignore the somber mood her partner had attained over the past few days. "You'll never believe what Jinx did-" She was unable to finish before his solemn monotone interrupted her.

"Not now Mar,"

"C'mon Marshall, I… I really need to talk to someone, and by someone I mean you. I can't afford a shrink, not that I'd ever willingly see one anyway, so you'll have to suffice," she edged closer to the couch and leaned over the back, her hair falling inches away from his face. It was usually an unspoken rule that Marshall was the closest thing she had and ever would have to a therapist. He was a pseudo therapist to be specific; she rarely had the urge to hit him like she did with the real deal.

"I know that Mar, but now just isn't a good time," he used the same disproving voice that he used when she was behaving like a petulant child. He turned his head to face her, silently pleading with his eyes that she would just drop it and leave.

"What good are you if I can't bitch to you whenever I please? I thought that was the purpose of having girlfriends, that whole sleepover, gossiping, complaining about the men in your life thing," she teased lightly waving her hands about in an exaggerated fashion. The look on her partner's face puzzled her; he clearly wasn't letting up on his sour mood.

"Mary. Please. Not. Now" he enunciated every syllable to every word, even choosing to use her full first name, rather than shortening her moniker as customary between them.

"I'm just saying Marsh, if you were a _good_ friend…." Her voice trailed off. That must have done it; the steely glare of her friend had silenced her.

She was just joking, attempting to lighten the mood and perhaps pull Marshall out of his foul…whatever it was Marshall was going through. Apparently Marshall wasn't up to joking. He stood up with such speed that Mary felt her own body recoil from the sudden movement. His tall, lanky frame towered over her and his fierce glare burned through her.

"If _I_ was a good friend?" his voice went up an octave or two and he scoffed in utter disbelief. "Unbelievable"

Mary stood up straight, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. She was unable to determine the cause of his raised voice but she cringed internally at the emphasis in his words. "What the hell is your problem?" she hissed, all traces of humor dissolved.

She knew she sounded defensive, agitated, and even angry but she was really upset with the turn of events. She drove to her best friend's house seeking comfort, she wanted that, she needed that, she didn't need the prospect of arguing with her best friend. She didn't have it in her to argue with anyone, especially him.

"What is _my_ problem?" Marshall repeated. "Now you ask. Now you act as if you care." He added under his breath.

Mary winced; the words stung her more than she wanted to let on. "It's fine Marshall. You don't want to talk right now," she turned to exit the apartment, hoping to escape before the pending argument that loomed over their head could escalate. "I do care though, you're my friend..."

"Am I?" he bit back, his tone acidic.

The statement caused her to stop in her tracks. She turned to face him, her head tilted to the side in confusion and annoyance. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Marshall let out an exasperated sigh. "Nothing Mar. Nothing. You're right, you do care, I guess. I _am_ your friend. I'm your _closest _friend and in most respects your _only_ friend. You _rely_ on me and you _need_ me, though you'll never concede to that," his voice held an overabundance of sarcasm as he ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, silently willing himself to keep his mouth shut.

The words, however, continued to tumble out. "I know that right now you need to unburden all of your anxieties of the day, unburden them and of course dump them at my feet as habitual in this undeclared arrangement that we have. I know that you are in dire need of me obliging to whatever it is you need, to bandaging you up and sending you on your merry little way-no pun intended, which if you don't know by now is a near impossible feat, repairing someone that is so irreversibly_ broken_. I know that you need us to talk about you and your life until some remarkable epiphany dawns on you... I get that, I get all of that, but right now I need you to get that I'm not up to it at this instant. I….I need all those things myself right now and I'm very aware that I will not actually get them."

The depth of his words astounded her, they penetrated her very soul. Her eyes widened in dismay and she felt as if the room was closing in on her. Mary never considered herself to be particularly selfish nor did she like to make herself a burden on others, but there was not doubt that Marshall's words suggested just that. The last part was what hit her most though, the insinuation that he couldn't talk to her.

"You can talk to me," she muttered quietly as she watched the distressed face of her partner as he paced back and forth before her.

"Can I? Can I really?" Marshall bit back, his voice once again dripping with sarcasm.

Mary flinched back from the harshness of his words like a child being berated by an infuriated parent. She was uncertain as to what she should, what she could say next. She never really seen Marshall in this light, not this anxious or upset and if he came close to it, it was usually directed at someone else. Mary was never on the receiving end of it. Marshall was never the type to spew unfiltered thoughts on a whim.

"It would hardly seem right….my talking to you, getting personal. That role has been reserved for you and you only. I mean it goes along with the…one-sidedness of our camaraderie. It coincides with why I know _everything_ about you and you know absolutely_ nothing_ about me," he chuckled darkly before stopping abruptly and snapping out of his ravings. "And it's fine," he whispered quietly. "It works and I don't really mind it, that much. I am perfectly content with sustaining you, being your support, because I know that you never got that in the past and….and you still don't really get it now. I knew what I was signing up for and I knowingly and willingly accepted the challenge….and it was no effort on my part to agree to never leave you. I did it all because I lo-... because I _care_ about you," he stumbled over the words. "I just wish…" he fell silent, staring at the wall past Mary unable to make eye contact. "I got off course," he tried again his voice more quiet than before. "I just meant to say that I have no problem being there for you…just not right now. Please Mar, I implore you, extend me that courtesy," he shifted his eyes away from the wall forcing himself to face her dead on.

Mary felt as if she were coming undone. She could feel how flushed her cheeks had become, how tense the air was between them. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to take off, to bolt from Marshall's apartment leaving the pain of those words behind her. She wanted to run before the tears that threatened to spill over became noticeable to her partner. If possible, Mary never let any man see her cry and she certainly didn't want to start now. She wanted to leave, to run far away, but she couldn't. Her feet against her will were firmly planted on the floor

"Selfish jackass," she murmured to herself, for she knew that there was truth in Marshall's words. That was exactly what she was when it came to their relationship. She knew that Marshall was being more honest than usual, revealing feelings he never had the gall to tell her any other time because he was too respectful, too gentle, too chivalrous, and of course because he always put her above himself.

She turned on her heel, ready to retreat in silence but not before catching a glimpse of her partner's face. There was a flicker of hurt that flashed across it, followed by anguish, anger, and then sadness. Mary realized in that second that Marshall had overheard her barely audible mutterings and quite possibly assumed that she was referring to him, the last person she would ever call selfish. She shook her head and opened her mouth ready to explain but he spoke before she could so much as utter a word.

"No, don't leave…It's my turn to run away," he mumbled silently his voice throttled with unspeakable pain.

To her horror, he reached down and pulled up a duffle bag that had been lined up next to the couch out of her sight, and slung it over his shoulder. He stared at her, despair intertwined with discernible longing in his blue eyes. He gave her a tight smile and headed for the door.

"Lock up when you leave please." He threw over his shoulder before descending the stairs and disappearing into the night.

Mary stood in the middle of her best friend's apartment in shock. She felt as if a wrecking ball had hit her head on, and the last comment he made before disappearing into the Albuquerque night, the comment about running, had knocked the air out of her. She clawed at her stomach and her chest gasping for air, feeling her way around the back of the couch until she sunk down in defeat. She never envisioned Marshall leaving and not actually telling her where he was going. She presumed that his leaving had nothing to do with her after all he had his bag all packed, he planned on leaving before she came, right? That had to be right, their impromptu argument was in no means a catalyst for his abrupt departure but if that wasn't the cause than what was?

She eyed the half empty glass of whiskey on the coffee table and the bottle beside it. Liquid courage. The metaphor about alcohol was so on point; she knew that from years of experience with Jinx. The lack of inhibition leads to the raw truth. For the first time in their partnership Marshall had the will, through an alcohol induced haze nonetheless, to be brutally honest with her. The crazy thing was he had been holding back on her. She could feel it; even slightly buzzed Marshall had irrational control and poise. He had no intentions of drudging up the issues he had with their friendship. It was her; she was the one that kept pushing him despite knowing that he was already perturbed.

What unsettled Mary the most was not actually finding out what had been troubling him, which tugged at her heartstrings. Something was wrong with Marshall, she seen it, she knew it, so why didn't she do anything to help? She was supposed to be Marshall's best friend, his only friend. He told her as much, but what good was that if she couldn't be the confidante for him that he so selflessly was for her? Marshall poured everything into their relationship, into their partnership, but did she?

Mary balled herself up on the couch, pulling her knees up and tucking them under her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs tightly and buried her head down letting the tears stream down her face. Everything that Marshall said was more or less true, she knew as much and she went everyday waiting for him to finally get sick of her and tell her how he really felt, to tell her that she was a horrible friend. Even though he promised to never leave her, she spent everyday waiting for him to take off and abandon her. He deserved better than her. He was right in what he said; she was selfish, selfish when it came to him. She could never afford to be selfish in any other aspect of her life not even when she was a child, but she could be selfish with Marshall. When she was with him it was the only time in her existence that she could put herself first. Unfortunately, that was at Marshall's expense.

Mary banged her head against her knees and continued to sob. Marshall knew so much about her, he knew things about her that she didn't even know about herself but she couldn't say the same for him. Despite their closeness she knew very little about him. Marshall Mann remained a mystery. She rarely inquired about his personal life or his past, even when Seth Mann had visited them she didn't pry too much. Marshall always let her dominate the conversation, dominate personal revelations, dominate just about everything. She lifted her head up and swiped at the tears stinging her face. She spotted the half empty glass before her and quickly sucked the drink down, finishing it off before slamming the glass down on the coffee table. She noted the worn piece of paper lying next to the glass. It was the same paper that Marshall had been fiddling with earlier.

She snatched the paper up, toying with it until her curiosity got the better of her. She carefully unfolded it and smiled. It was an old photo, one of a younger Marshall, short, scrawny, and awkward. He had that same goofy grin spread across his face, the grin that she loved. His arm was wrapped around a younger, shorter, nearly identical little boy. She turned the photo around and read the inscription. "Marshall and Daniel-1984" She grinned, even then Marshall had a warm smile. His blue eyes were soft and sensitive and held wisdom far beyond his years. She wondered what brought on the trip down memory lane and Marshall's departure.

~~~~o~~~~

After spending the day staring at the empty desk across from her and finally resorting to threatening Stan with bodily harm, Mary finally learned that Marshall had gone back to Texas for a family emergency. Thousands of dollars worth of government resources later Mary learned that Marshall had gone home for a funeral. It was the funeral of his younger cousin Daniel. Daniel Mann had quite the wrap sheet; it was hard to believe that he even shared a name let alone blood with the Mann family. Apparently Daniel Mann had been murdered in prison while serving another bid for his recent involvement in some big time drug cartel. The speculation was that a rival cartel had got a hold to him in prison, using his death as a way to send a message. It was astonishing to her that such a colorful character resided in the Mann family, but what was even more disconcerting to Mary was the fact that at least at one point in his life Marshall was relatively close to this cousin, and she never once heard him utter a word about it. The moodiness, the drinking, the trip home, it all made sense to her now.

Mary knew where she needed to be, and where she needed to be was with Marshall. He was always there for her, no questions asked; it was long overdue that she return the favor.

It didn't take much convincing to get Stan to give her a couple of days off. Stan learned a long time ago that there was no saying 'no' to Mary Shannon, especially when she had her mind made up about something. He also knew that she would have taken off on her own whether she had his permission or not. The bond between his two favorite Marshals was one that he hadn't seen or experienced before in all his years of serving. There was no keeping them apart and he certainly wasn't one to try.

A few hours and a string of obscenities later, Mary found herself in the dusky desert of Marshall's hometown. She had roughly twenty minutes to get to the cemetery in time for the Eulogy, leaving her no time to check into a hotel or change into something more formal than her signature black leather jacket and pair of jeans. She called for a cab, scowling at the ridiculous cowboy hat the chubby cabdriver wore when he arrived, and grimacing at his use of the term "Ma'am" in his southern drawl. She was inundated with sardonic retorts but bit her tongue to the point of drawing blood, not wanting to waste any time.

She scrambled out of the cab when it pulled up at the cemetery, hurling a wad of cash at the driver and slinging her small go bag over her shoulder. She scanned her immediate surroundings looking for any sign of life, an odd thing to do given the location, and sighed in relief when she spotted the small cluster of people before her. She scurried ahead quietly trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, not wanting to disturb the procession or call any attention to herself. She felt uncomfortable enough being at a strange funeral without wearing the proper attire.

As she stealthily crept closer to the group of people, she spotted her tall, gangly partner. He stood some distance from the others, appearing awkward and misplaced, as if he didn't quite fit in with the mass of stone-faced Manns, and from what Mary could see... he didn't. Her heart broke a little for the solitary Mann; she got the impression that Marshall was one of a kind, different from the other members of his family. She got that impression upon his father's visit but this visual solidified it.

She nodded in acknowledgment at Seth Mann who had recognized her and inclined his head in her direction giving her a tight smile, or grimace; it was truly hard to tell with him. She walked up to Marshall, reclaiming her spot at his side, the way it should have been from the beginning. She dropped her bag on the ground beside her with a soft thud. She knew that Marshall felt a presence beside him due to their close proximity because his body stiffened, he didn't however give any sign that he knew that presence was that of his best friend because he refused to glance over. She looked up at his face and instantly knew why. In the sea of stoic Manns, Marshall had been the only one crying. The redness of his eyes and tear streaked cheeks were a dead give away. She felt her own eyes water at the sight of her friend's pain but a small smile tugged at her lips when she thought about her Mann not being afraid to show justifiable grief at a funeral.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. She looked up once more at his face before leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder, the light breeze whipping her blonde hair around them. She felt him press his cheek against her hair and his grip tighten in hers, and that was how they remained for the duration of the funeral. She was being a pillar of strength for her pillar of strength. She stood ready to collect the pieces of his broken heart.

When everyone dispersed after the event was over, she and Marshall headed towards his truck. He still had not said a single word to her, but his hand never left hers, not even when he paused to sling her bag over his broad shoulder. They walked slowly in silence, something Mary would usually find painstakingly boring and frustrating. Slow movement was almost as excruciating to her as affectionate gestures, but for Marshall she didn't mind, and this time it wasn't about her or what made her uncomfortable, this time it was about him, and Marshall seemed more at ease, especially with her hand in his.

Even in the truck the silence was prevalent but for the first time in weeks it wasn't unbearable or awkward, but rather a respectful comfortable silence giving them both the chance to reflect. Mary glanced down at the console where their fingers were once again intertwined. Somewhere between stoplights Marshall's hand had found hers again and he held it firmly, with no intentions of letting her go. She reveled at the uncharacteristic boldness of her partner, under other circumstances he would shy away from any touching of any sort with Mary because he knew it made her uncomfortable, which brought her to another revelation...she didn't really mind the gesture.

The truck stopped moments later and Marshall hopped out before Mary could say a word. He appeared suddenly at the passenger side, opening her door and holding her hand as she scrambled out. He trudged through a dusty field of open land towing her behind him. He plopped down on a large boulder and pulled her down beside him, staring off into the distance at the sandy dunes and impending sunset. It was quiet and relaxed and secluded, granting just enough privacy for someone to become one with nature, the view was breathtaking and Mary found herself taking it all in with wonder.

"Danny and I used to come here a lot when we were kids," Marshall choked out breaking the silence. "He was my cousin and my best friend while growing up. He was the only family member that didn't make me feel like an outcast," he chuckled softly. "He was the only one that treated me like a normal person…." he smiled sadly. "I always felt like it was always my job to look after him, and God did he need looking after. He was…he was adventurous and bold, a troublemaker…like a wild animal that needed to be tamed, and I was always there to tame him. For some reason, he always listened to me, respected me, you know?"

"He looked up to you," Mary replied softly, squeezing his hand in comfort.

"I suppose, though I can't venture as to why. He was undoubtedly more suave and influential than I and that made him popular among other family members and friends and girls….Anyways, Danny had a penchant for getting into trouble and that increased exponentially as the years progressed….you seen his record." He stated rather than asked, already knowing the answer.

Mary nodded, "yeah, I seen it."

"I'd like to think that I did my best to tame him, but I didn't, not really. We went down different paths, and I sort of left him. I left and I never came back. I couldn't watch him deteriorate right before my eyes. When he was sentenced that last time; it killed me. What good was I if wasn't there to help him then, when he probably needed me the most?"

He looked at Mary as she flinched from the reminder of the words she so absently threw at him prior to his departure. She could see how those words would cause him to snap when he was already so vulnerable.

"I told myself then, that I would never run away from a challenge, there was no such thing as 'a lost cause', for as long as someone needed me I would be there…" he stared intently at her.

Mary felt her face flush as she pondered the sudden shift in the conversation. It was clearly heading down a different path and she had the insight to note that, that path would unquestionably have to do with her.

"I wasn't there to save him the way I should have been. He never held me responsible for his actions and to his dying day he loved me for being there for him, but I always held myself responsible and I know I could have done better. I set high expectations for myself. I know that to everyone else he seemed feral, untamed, and entirely too reliant on me, but what they don't know is I needed him every bit as much as he needed me…" he paused before continuing. "Mar, about the other day, I'm s-"

"Don't Marshall," she cut him off softly. "Don't say sorry, it isn't warranted. You were being honest,"

He shook his head vigorously. "I was lashing out."

"You were telling the truth," she said simply a smile spreading across her face. "Sort of."

"Not exactly, I told you our relationship was one-sided, and that you needed me more than I needed you."

"You said all that, did you?"

Marshall blushed and continued. "But that is far from the truth. I made that vow when I left home; after Danny…and then I met you and you helped me live up to it. When I promised not to leave you, it wasn't solely for your benefit."

"Damn, and here I thought I was special,"

He shook his head and smirked. "It was also for me, for my benefit. Everyday you help me uphold that promise I made to myself, to not back away or run, to always be there, to be supportive, to save you even if I'm just saving you from yourself," he sighed.

"Danny was the first Mary" she teased lightly.

"Something like that," he agreed. "So I was not being honest….I need you every bit as much as you need me," He stared into her eyes and grinned her favorite goofy grin.

For a split second she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Adoration, perhaps? Maybe something else. She shook the thought out of her head, it couldn't be love. Devotion, it could be devotion, but it couldn't be love. She let the weight of all he said settle as they both stared off into the sunset sitting in a comfortable silence. She could imagine a young Marshall escaping to this sanctuary, it was absolutely mesmerizing.

"Can I ask you something?" he interrupted her thoughts. In true chivalrous, polite, Marshall fashion he quietly waited for an 'okay'. She nodded her head giving him the green light. "You said that I was being honest and telling the truth earlier, but then you said 'sort of'….what did you mean?" his eyes bore into the side of her face and he tilted his head, patiently awaiting an answer.

"Well," she started, turning to face him head on. "You said I didn't know anything about you. That wasn't the truth," he raised his eyebrow unable to mask his dubious expression as he waited for her to finish. "I know what counts. I know what matters," she shrugged.

"Why Mary, my Mary, have you been paying attention? Everything matters," he joked imitating the voice of his father.

She chuckled at his joke before explaining. "True. However some things matter more. Like how brave you are, or how you possess a quiet undeterred strength that is often underestimated but a powerful force to be reckoned with," she stopped, debating whether or not she needed to continue. "I know you're a great friend and as a result, great at what you do. I know your favorite foods and how you take your coffee. I know that you'd never cry in public unless the situation called for it, but you'd never apologize for shedding tears. I know that you'd rather deal with loneliness than compromise who you are as a person. I know that you ramble when you're nervous and that your voice gets lower when you're very angry. I know that you have a great poker face, but your eyes…your eyes always betray you. They reveal your thoughts and your emotions; they are the gateway to your heart and soul. And you know that, because you avert them whenever you're trying to hide your feelings….like now."

Marshall's face flushed and he continued to look away from her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"So what gives?" she whispered. "What are you trying to hide from me now?"

"I guess I was wrong about you lacking knowledge," he chuckled, intentionally ignoring her question. "You know all the little things. I guess….I guess what has always been incomprehensible for me was the fact that you still keep me at a distance. You never really attempt to learn more about me, you don't seem interested. I suppose you can guess by now that I'm a puzzle person, I like to have all the pieces, and I guess it's a faux paus of mine that I assume everyone is similar," he laughed.

Mary nodded in understanding. She could see why her friend had reservations about her unwillingness to learn more about him. In normal relationships ascertaining as much information as possible about a person was expected.

"First, I told myself that I didn't want to learn anything that would disappoint me," she started. "I figured the less I knew the better. I didn't want you to end up being a disappointment too. You were all I had left and I couldn't afford that. Our relationship has always been a comfortable and easy one, and I didn't want anything to effect that."

Marshall nodded as he listened. He could empathize with his partner, and he was very aware of her dark perspective on humanity and on relationships.

"But," she whispered, her voice trailing off with uncertainty.

"But…" he prompted her gently.

She looked into his eyes with a burning intensity that caused him to avert his once more. "No," she said forcefully. She cupped her hand under his chin and pulled his face in her direction, forcing him to face her. "Let me see," she whispered. "Stop hiding."

His eyes met hers and she studied the deep blue orbs. She saw it again, clearer this time, the adoration, but most importantly, the love. Unconditional and pure love. She knew she had seen it so many times before, but at the time it never made sense for Marshall to love her. He knew too much about her to truly love her, so she thought. But it was there in his eyes, plain as day. She knew he would never say it, not in so many words, because he feared her response. The toast he gave at her engagement party was a minor infraction on his part; he spent the rest of the night brushing it off as if it didn't actually happen. Now she understood the tortured glances scrawled across his face on random occasions.

Marshall's unconscious squirming brought her back to the present. His eyes were guarded now, unsure of what she saw and how she would react. She dropped her hands from his face and rested them in his hands instead; a small gesture that she knew would put him at ease.

"But…" he quietly prompted.

"But later I knew the real reason why I never asked more about you. It was because, we're so close already and I was….scared."

"Scared?" he asked in complete bewilderment. "Why? Of what?"

"Scared because it was the only thing left between us," she answered quietly. "It wasn't that I was afraid you'd be a disappointment…on the contrary. I knew you wouldn't be, because you're Marshall. The one person I trust unequivocally, even more than I trust myself," she stopped. She felt herself at a crossroad and though she'd love to believe that she was undecided she already had an idea as to which direction she would go.

"I don't understand why that would be so scary…becoming closer…better friends," he concluded.

She could tell he was trying not to get his hopes up. She decided to take a different route. "Why do you struggle with words when you are trying to tell me that you….care, about me?" she asked as innocently as Mary Shannon could ever sound.

Marshall's face reddened at the question and once again his eyes scanned everything around him to avoid meeting hers. "I cannot definitively state that I know what you are referring to."

"lo-care isn't a word doofus, even I know that," she teased. "You've said it before…that you love me. Why is it so different now?"

"Mar," he warned, staring ahead into the distance. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh no you don't!" she pulled his face in her direction forcing him to look at her once more. "I do have to do this, otherwise you would never know that…you'd never know that it's mutual, and what good am I if I let you go on believing that?" she smiled at him.

"You love me back," he said in awe, finally letting her words sink in.

She nodded her head and nervously bit her lip. "I….I like you a lot."

Marshall nodded. He knew that 'I love you' was a difficult phrase for Mary to say out loud. He also knew that, that innocent phrase meant more than "I love you" could ever mean, it went far beyond that and it was the best she could give him. "And you figured this out just now?" he questioned.

"Jinx left. Brandi took off, and that left me alone. But then you took off, and you were hurting and it broke my heart because I did nothing to help you, and I felt lonely. There's a difference, I could deal with being alone but I can't deal with being lonely. I guess so many things happening at once helped me see what was always there," she answered simply. "I've always…" she paused sighing. "I've always loved you Marshall, otherwise I would never have let my guard down and allowed myself to be so vulnerable and trusting with you. I'm only sorry that I was never as good to you as you were, as you _are_ to me,"

He opened his mouth to argue but her fierce glare deterred him from doing so. "Thank you for being here Mar, I…I needed you."

"I know," she whispered, her hands slipping from his face and wrapping around his neck.

"The eyes gave me away?" he asked chuckling.

"Yup," she confirmed. "And do you know what they are telling me now?"

He shook his head slowly, feeling his chest tighten at her close proximity.

"They are saying that you, Doofus, won't object to me kissing you…"

She closed the space between them capturing his lips with hers. He kept up the gentlemanly demeanor not pushing her any further, still giving her an out if she needed it. When she wound her fingers through his hair pulling him even closer, and her tongue slid across his lower lip, he abandoned all inhibitions. His wild gasp of unadulterated joy and elation made her heart swell. Kissing Marshall was unlike anything she had ever experienced before, euphoric and right, because she was finally kissing her soul mate in the truest sense of the word. She used to cringe at the term, at the time it seemed to be overused and misused, thrown around for any and every lust filled or romantic gesture, but now she truly knew what it felt like to have one.

Marshall's long fingers clawed at the small of her back, struggling to pull her even closer. They fell over backwards into the sand and giggled like schoolchildren over their clumsiness. His lips found the base of her throat as she thought about the prospect of consummating their newfound partnership under the Texan moonlight.

"Shouldn't we be getting back?" she gasped, not really wanting to end the moment.

"Trust me, they won't miss me," he snorted. "They'll be relieved that I won't be there to make a rather interesting comparison of the funeral processes of the ancient Greeks, Egyptians, Romans, and Amazons. Contrary to popular belief they had very different perspectives on the dead and crossing over. I wrote a thesis on it back in college for one of my Anthropology courses" he rambled.

"Jesus, Marshall, shut up!"

"Yes Ma'am," he smirked, dodging her as she swatted at him for using the term. "You're right though, it wouldn't be very proper to sleep with a woman such as yourself on a 'first date'…" he drawled.

"Don't be such a girl Marshmallow, seven years of foreplay…I wouldn't worry about proper," she pulled his lips to hers again.

"I believe they shoot you in Texas for such a display," he muttered sarcastically while stroking her hair.

"Not if we flash our badges," she quipped back, removing his shirt.

"I have a feeling that if there is flashing it would have nothing to do with badges," he chuckled.

Mary laughed. It was the first time in a long time she laughed with such freedom. She had never felt as alive as she felt lying in the middle of the desert, sand collecting in unthinkable places, with her best friend and partner beside her. It was the first time in her life that she let someone truly love her, and something told her that she wouldn't have to worry about it being the last, for as long as she had Marshall by her side she'd always know what true love felt like. Their banter ended abruptly once they became one with each other, solidifying the partnership that they spent years nurturing, spending the night entangled with one another beneath the moonlit sky.


End file.
